Past Imperfect
by Willowsticks
Summary: Richard's past catches up with him on Sainte Marie and reveals a new side to his character...
1. Chapter 1

**So MillionMoments and I got talking about an idea we'd had about embarrassing situations and crazy ex's and before we knew it we were writing alternate paragraphs to the following...**

One minute Richard was next to her as they walked through the market, having an argument about whose fault it was that the witness had clammed up (his, obviously, he had been rude), and the next he was gone. She turned around and realised that to the people around her, she looked like she had been talking to herself. Using her keen detective skills to locate him, she found him lurking in a nearby store. No, not lurking, _hiding_.

And if running away wasn't bad enough, he now seemed to be ignoring her completely.

All attempts at her questioning were heartily shushed. Which didn't have the desired effect. She was about to draw breath to give him a dressing down for making her look deranged but instead began to watch his erratic behaviour. He was now peering out from behind a bookshelf scanning the market in front of him. Whatever he was looking for wasn't there. He breathed a sigh of relief and straightened up to find her looking at him.

He picked up a book from the shelf in front of him and feigned nonchalance. "Found it!" The raised eyebrow he received in return told him that he hadn't fooled her.

"What to expect when you're expecting?" She asked, indicating the book her had selected. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

He sneered his annoyance, wondering briefly if he should buy the damn thing to prove a point before conceding defeat and putting it back on the shelf. Indicating that she needed to move with a dismissive hand gesture (something that she always found intensely annoying), he found his way blocked.

"Richard Poole," she said. "You aren't fooling anybody, what are you hiding in here for? Owe one of the market traders a debt or something?"

He was still checking that the coast was clear. "Hm? Oh no..." He changed his mind midsentence. "I mean yes, yes absolutely. Expensive mangos. Didn't have enough cash. Could you just..." He motioned that she needed to move again.

Unfortunately for him, Camille had seen him examining the market closely. She spun on her heel and began searching herself. Before he could think of something to say to distract her, Camille's eyes locked on exactly the person he didn't want her to see. Richard swallowed hard as she turned back around to face him, clearly having realised the truth.

He pre-empted her question. "She is..." He searched around vaguely for an answer before realising that he didn't actually have to give one. "She is none of your business."

Camille did _not_ react well to that. "Fine!" She said huffily. "I mean, fine, you don't have to tell me. It's not like we're friends. I'll just be over there, minding my own business!" She stalked off towards the back of the shop where she began to examine a rack of earrings.

He wanted to ignore her. He really did. But there was something about the way that she was scrutinising that particular rack of earrings that he thought might mean she was in a mood with him. He could hear her huffing. Yup, she was definitely in a mood with him. He wasn't quite sure when he had began to open up to Camille, but knew now, without a shadow of a doubt that this was going to be one of those moments. He took a deep breath, held it in and released it slowly, then moved towards her.

"Ah, Camille," he tried nervously. She ignored him. This was not a good start. He cleared his throat and tried again, "Um, Camille?" Still no response. Perhaps he should just come out and say it, even if it was too her back. In fact it might actually be _easier_ to her back. "She's somebody I knew at university."

She thought about this for a moment then fixed him with a shrewd look and hit the nail on the head first time. "Just from university?" _Damn it. How the hell did she do that? _

He bit his lip, "Well we might have met up once or twice a few years after that. But it's been at least ten years since I last saw her." And last wanted to see her, though he didn't say that out loud.

She seemed to accept this, but her eyes were still firmly fixed on the earrings. Richard, pretty pleased to have got away with his white lie, completely missed the mischievous look that had appeared on her face. She was pushing past him before he knew what was happening, and was almost at the door before he managed to catch her wrist.

She looked entirely innocent of any trouble that she was about to cause. "You should say hi."

His grip on her wrist tightened instinctively, he tried to convince himself it wasn't due to fear. Camille frowned at him and he let go, but not before stepping in front of her to block the exit as she had done for him mere minutes ago. "I don't think that is a good idea," he said.

Her frown implied that he needed to start talking and pretty quickly. The pressure coupled with the heat was making him feel more than a little faint. He struggled to find the words he needed to explain himself. "She's, um." Little black dots were beginning to appear in front of his eyes. He thought hard about how to phrase his next statement but failed again. "We, um." This was harder than he thought. Although he wasn't really sure why given that he didn't really need to explain himself to her. He looked at his hands and realised to his horror that they were mimicking his thoughts, palms faced together in a clapping gesture, shortening and lengthening the space between them. He went even redder as he spat out his answer and tried desperately to keep his voice level. "I took her out a couple of times." Well, five. But she didn't need to know that.

Camille took in his increasing distressed state and suddenly her face became a mask of sympathy. "Oh Richard," she said, placing a gently hand on his arm. "Did she break your heart? I'm sorry, of course we won't go and talk to her. In fact I can tell you when the coast is clear if you like."

"What? No!" He realised too late that he had said the wrong thing. If he'd only agreed with her they could have put the whole thing to bed. Bed. Damn it! Now he was thinking about that again. He was becoming more and more agitated.

Now Camille looked intrigued, "Oh my God, did you break _her _heart?" Technically, Richard wasn't sure if that was true – but he had certainly been the one to end it. For reasons he didn't want Camille to find out. The problem was that she was taking his silence as confirmation that she was correct. "Richard Poole!" She cried, a little shocked. "I didn't think you had it in you."

He stood looking a little uncertain as to why they were still talking about this. He was also a little affronted as to why she thought he was incapable of breaking anyone's heart, perhaps she didn't think anyone was capable of falling in love with him. The thought reared the need to reassert his masculinity in front of her. He put on an air of indifference. "I have no idea what happened to her. I didn't call her." He realised too late again that perhaps admitting to that might have been a bit of a blunder.

Camille looked disappointed in him. That created a feeling in his stomach that he didn't particularly like. The good thing about it was that she was no longer interested in pursuing the woman, or even talking about it further. Instead she said shortly, "We should get back to work. Dwayne and Fidel will be wondering where we are."

The relief he felt as he meekly followed her was short-lived as it suddenly occurred to him that she had spoken to him in the same way that a disappointed parent speaks to a naughty child. The bravado that he had felt only moments earlier had now morphed into embarrassment at his behaviour 10 years previously. Thinking about it again after so much time had elapsed, he couldn't actually believe that he hadn't called her, it was rude and selfish behaviour. But then, the alternative had been so hideously awful that he knew that there could have been no other option.

He sent nervous glances over his shoulder the entire way back to the station, convinced a certain somebody might spring out from behind a palm tree, or from under one of the market stalls. This helped him ignore how uncomfortable he was with Camille's silence. It was a physical effort not to show his relief at having made it to the station without incident – but then Dwayne said the words he knew could change his life there forever. "Hey Chief, a woman was here asking for you!"

He paled a little beneath his flush. "Woman?" If the others hadn't noticed the change of his skin tone then the semi octave change in his voice was a dead giveaway.

"Yeah!" Dwayne continued, not bothering to hide his smile. "Pretty one at that. About your age, with lots of blonde hair and a _lovely_ pair of…" Richard held his breath. "Green eyes." Phew. "Said she was an old _friend_ of yours."

Richard was nodding but not really listening anymore. Eyes wide he seemed to be paralysed by memories. Dwayne continued, "How do you know her then chief?"

He considered how to answer – he had tried the 'none of your business' routine with Camille, and it had failed. Mind so had his attempt to explain their 'relationship'. It seemed he was screwed either way. "She's somebody I used to go out with, and don't particularly want to see again," he eventually said – even though he knew the likelihood of Dwayne not asking further questions was very small.

Dwayne gave him a pitying look. "Ah, she dump you chief?"

"Why does everyone think I got dumped? I didn't get bloody dumped!"

Richard wasn't sure what was worse, the assumption that he was dumped or the shock that was now apparent on Dwayne's face. To his credit he did look a little chastened. "Sorry chief." The roguish look was back. "What was it? Too pretty? Her lovely...green eyes too mesmerising?" Richard fought for control over his feelings. He was their boss. It wouldn't do to lose his temper. Again.

Realisation suddenly dawned on Dwayne's face – perhaps his years of experience with the fairer sex had led him to be able to recognise Richard's particular issue. "Ah," he said, nodding knowingly. "A bit crazy, is she?" Richard didn't respond to that, but he didn't need to, Dwayne had already decided he was right. "Well, that's a bit awkward."

His eyes narrowed, "what's a bit awkward?" He felt a little sick at what he knew Dwayne was about to tell him.

"Well, I kind of told her she could find you at _La Kaz_ later…" the officer admitted. Richard glared at him. "Hey! I know we all have at least one crazy ex, but how was I supposed to know _she_ was _yours_!"

Richard clenched his fists very close to his body and took a deep breath. Once he had released it he looked back at Dwayne. "It's fine. She's probably only here for a week. I don't have to go to La Kaz. I can stay at home for a week."

"You're so desperate to avoid her you would sacrifice tea?" Camille asked – at least she was talking to him again. He merely nodded in reply, sitting down at his own desk. "So tell me, what is Dwayne going to tell her when she turns up tonight? And what is stopping her from returning to the station tomorrow – or do you plan to avoid work for a week as well?"

"Tell her I've died. Freak accident involving a pot hole..." The look Camille was giving him quite clearly suggested that that wasn't an option. He tried again. "I can work from home..." the look hadn't changed. He suddenly realised that there was only one option. "Oh God I'm going to have to see her aren't I?"

Camille looked smug, but then Dwayne piped up, "Hey, you know Chief, I might be able to, ah, _distract_ her for you."

"Really? I mean she's not actually that crazy. She's perfectly normal to talk to..."

Dwayne held up a hand, cutting off Richard's hurried explanation, "Chief, in my considerable experience one man's crazy ex can be another man's hot date for the evening. You leave it to me Chief, she won't even remember who you are by the end of the night." If Dwayne saw the significant, and amused, look shared by Camille and Fidel he chose to ignore it.

Richard debated quickly whether to let Dwayne know the _specific_ quirk about this particular ex and decided against it immediately. With any luck Dwayne wouldn't ever find out and his professional integrity would be assured.

There was something he needed to check though, "So, you're just doing this out of the good of your heart, then?"

Dwayne was nodding, his face a picture of understanding. "Sure chief. I'll keep her out of the way, keep her entertained, offer her a shoulder to cry on if she needs it." Richard highly doubted that it would end at his shoulder, and almost interjected to say as much but as long as she was out of his way and Dwayne made no effort to pry information out of her then he had no need to panic. He was about to sit at his desk when Camille perked up again.

"So why did you dump her?"

Knowing he couldn't just ignore her, he said with a sigh, "For a multitude of reasons. Since this is a police station and intended for interrogations of the criminal kind, rather than just gossip mongering, perhaps you could ask me at a more suitable time." When he had time to think of some lies, and practise telling them so she didn't catch him out.

**Extra points if you can guess who wrote what! **


	2. Chapter 2

Richard had spent the entire afternoon keeping his eyes firmly on his computer and his paperwork in an effort to dodge any more embarrassment. He could almost hear the cog's turning in Camille's brain as she fought to hold in the questions that she was so desperate to ask. It was therefore with some reluctance that Richard declared the day to be over and prepared himself for a grilling. However much to his astonishment he found that although Camille was almost dragging him towards his impending doom, she hadn't yet begun the line of questioning that he had expected.

"Come on Richard, you sure you won't want to risk one cup of tea?" She wielded. He glanced about desperately for a taxi, figuring it might be his quickest escape route. There! He could see one coming now, and he flagged it down.

It was slowing down – it had seen him! He felt a rush of adrenaline as he realised that for the first time in his life he was making a quick getaway. He was starting to make his excuses to Camille when it pulled up beside him and the door opened. His heart fell like a lead weight through the pavement as he heard a voice that he had hoped never again to hear in his life.

"Richie! Sorry, of course, you always preferred Richard didn't you? Sometimes I just can't help myself! Officer Myers told me I could find you here about this time," she cried behind him. Camille mouthed the word 'Richie' at him but he just waved a hand at her to tell her she should leave it.

He turned around, the least he could do was be polite, after all _he_ had been the one to break it off, and ignore her phone calls. All 55 of them. He tried to sound enthusiastic. "Amy! This is a surprise." Behind him, Camille rolled her eyes, clearly his acting left a lot to be desired. But if there was no warmth in his voice then Amy chose not to notice it.

"But Richie darling surely that nice policeman _told_ you I was coming!" She said, smiling widely and slapping him on the arm. "Of course you mean me being here on the island, I imagine, not here right now." Well of course that is what he had meant –he'd forgotten that pedantic side to her nature, the need she had for people to be _absolutely_ clear as to what they meant. At first he had liked it, being a bit of a pendant himself if he was truthful, then it just became annoying. It's why he'd ignored her calls, he knew the actual conversation they'd have to have for him to break up with her properly would take a fortnight at least.

Richard did not take kindly to his personal space being invaded, especially by someone he absolutely did not want to see. And Amy was definitely invading his personal space. He was backing away from her slowly as she advanced on him until he suddenly felt a palm in the small of his back bringing him to a halt. It was Camille. She had come to his side, her hand hidden from Amy's view.

"So, _Richie_, aren't you going to introduce me?"

Rather than remaining smug, Camille actually suddenly took a step back, due to the sheer force of the glare that was suddenly turned on her by Amy. Richard, desperate to diffuse the situation and prevent any misunderstandings, hurried to make the introductions, "Camille this is Amy Thorpe, Amy may I introduce my colleague Detective Sergeant Camille Bordey." At the word 'colleague' Amy had relaxed, and become all smiles, offering a hand to Camille.

"Oh Camille, how lovely to meet you!" Amy was pumping her hand thoroughly and Camille began to get a glimpse of the 'crazy' Richard had been talking about. Without warning she swapped the handshake for an intimate arm link and Camille felt herself being pulled away from the security of Richard's side towards the bar. "This is where we're going isn't it, we have so much to talk about!" The blank expression that she received from Camille did nothing to deter her. "You must know all of Richard's little secrets of course! I want to know everything. And I mean everything!" The last statement was said with what Camille considered to be a little bit of menace and Camille turned back to glance at Richard, her eyes wide, indicating that he should follow them. With a sigh, he straightened his shoulders and made his way into the bar behind them.

"Now I simply _must_ have a gin and tonic, absolutely gasping," Amy walked up to the bar, waving jovially at Fidel and Dwayne when she spotted them. She tapped lightly on its wooden surface and declared, "Gin and tonics all round! Slim line, with lime, not lemon. Squeeze one slice into each glass, and then around the edge as well. Presumably you have ice cubes made from mineral water, yes? Can't be too careful what you drink in rustic places like this."

"Rustic places?" Camille was almost spluttering. "This is my mother's bar!" The glare that would have silenced Richard in a heartbeat did nothing to quell Amy. If anything it goaded her into conceitedness as she fixed Camille with a smug smile.

"Well then, you won't have any problem in making sure, will you?"

"Friend of Richard's, are you?" Catherine enquired, beginning the process of making the drinks. It wasn't actually a question that needed an answer. Of course she didn't have any mineral water ice cubes, but whoever this woman was didn't need to know that.

"Oh yes, Richard and I were at university together – Cambridge." She gave a self satisfied raise of her chin and Catherine got the distinct impression that she was meant to congratulate her. Instead she managed a polite eyebrow raise and shot Camille a loaded look when Amy wasn't looking. "In fact we dated for a while, he pursued me of course." Camille could see behind her that Richard had screwed up his face and was shaking his head vigorously.

It didn't surprise Richard in the slightest that Amy's recollections were different from his. Truth be told, he didn't really remember her from university – they'd apparently shared one lecture together. Richard must have made an impression on her though, because when he bumped (quite literally) into her years later she had immediately gone on about what a coincidence it was to bump into an old uni chum such as himself. It has seemed rude not to agree to her suggestions of a drink and a catch up.

She had been pretty, actually she had been more than pretty and Richard had been flattered by the attention she had lavished on him, even if she had seemed a little controlling about his behaviour. By date 3 she had even brought a tie with her, telling him that she hadn't liked what he had been wearing for their other dates and wanted him to wear something special. Too stunned to say anything he had watched meekly as she had removed his old one and replaced it with a monstrosity more to her liking. The only thing he remembered in his defence was that she had been wearing a very low cut top at the time and Richard had had a very good view as the new tie was done up around his neck.

Yes, in conclusion, she had been very much in control. Somehow his brain was registering the crazy, but unable to act upon it, being suppressed by other parts of his body that were willing to put up with the discomfit for the chance of other things. Of course, then incidents occurred that could no longer be ignored. Which led to Richard not returning calls. And changing station (though a transfer had been due soon anyway). And moving house, for good measure. His long silence had not gone unnoticed.

"Ah, thinking back to those days, eh, Richie?" Amy asked him.

He cleared his throat by way of response and looked past her. "Actually I think I'll have a beer please, Catherine."

"Don't be silly Richard!" Amy cried, shoving the gin and tonic at him. "A G&T will be _far_ more refreshing!" So, she hadn't changed on that front. "Let's go and join your fellow officers. Oh I do love a man in uniform, I always did think it was a shame you were in CID by the time we met."

"I thought you said you knew him from university?" Camille asked, puzzled.

She received a withering glare for her trouble. "I meant by the time we met again. Obviously." She turned and scanned the table that she was joining, noting the seating arrangements. Richard had managed to place himself in the corner in-between both Dwayne and Fidel reasonably confident that he was safe, Amy wouldn't be able to get to him now. But he had underestimated her yet again.

"Dywane isn't it?" She fixed him with a dazzling smile and Dwayne managed to drag his view from her cleavage and nodded enthusiastically. She was back to being charming again. "Would you be a poppet and move over one – it's been such a long time since I've seen Richard and I would so love to catch up with him." Richard looked wildly around him trying to catch the eye of any member of his team but they all ignored him. He tried to think of a way to get Dwayne to stay, but short of grabbing at his clothes there was very little that he could do. She sidled over and slid on to the chair, moving it far closer than she needed to.

"I bet you're simply _dying_ to know what brought me to this quaint little island," she gushed, leaning towards him. "Or had you assumed _you_ were the reason, poppet!" She laughed as if that was hilarious and utterly ridiculous, and Richard felt a spark of hope that perhaps she was here on business that would keep her busy, or even…honeymoon? No, her hands were sadly ring free. "You see, I am tracing my family history, like _Who do you think you are?_ Turns out one of my many great something's actually _ruled_ Saint Marie! I couldn't resist the opportunity to see the place. Ha! Imagine if my family had kept hold of it, darling, I'd be your queen!"

Richard suddenly felt guilt for the colonial past of the United Kingdom. It wasn't the first time – it was one of the hazards of studying history at university. But this evening was particularly bad, especially when his whole team were looking more than a little shocked by the statement. "I don't think you mean _ruled_, Amy, presumably they were appointed as a Governor?"

"Psh – same thing really." She said dismissively. He frowned at her, they certainly weren't the same thing, and Amy had apparently studied history, granted - not the same modules as him, but she still should have known that. Especially if it was part of her personal history.

"Right." Richard was groping around for a new topic of conversation, given that Amy had shut down the last one so succinctly. "So, how did you know I was on Saint Marie?"

"Why from the newspaper article of course! There was a picture of you escorting that dreadful Vicky Woodward woman. How exciting though, being involved in such a high profile case. You must be _terribly_ good at your job," she practically purred.

"I have a very good team," Richard said, embarrassed both by her praise and the fact that she was holding the straw in her drink in a very provocative manner. He risked a look at Dwayne which confirmed that he had definitely noticed the straw too. "You've met Dwayne and Camille, and this is Fidel..." he pointed out each of them in turn trying to get her to stop looking at him.

"Fidel's our newest sergeant," he was talking across her trying to shift the conversation into a wider context. It worked, with a huff she turned to Fidel, realising that if she wanted to get Richard back then she needed to make an effort with his team.

"A recent promotion, hey?" She said, beaming at him.

Fidel, in whom you could not find a more devoted husband, immediately became flustered by the attention and declared, "Yes, my wife is very proud. We have a baby girl. We've been together 6 years."

A stony look came over her face again. Clearly she didn't like not being the centre of attention. Thankfully Dwayne came to the rescue.

"So Amy, has anyone shown you around yet?" Richard would have kissed Dwayne in gratitude had he been closer, actually it was probably a good thing that he wasn't as he would have had to lean over Amy. And Amy was already about as close as he could bear, her hand almost at his knee, waiting for the right moment to assert her claim on him. As it was he took the opportunity to slip out of his chair muttering that he needed to make a phone call, staring resolutely ahead of him lest he accidentally catch her eye and she take it as a hint that she should follow him.

Outside of the bar, he considered just legging it – it wouldn't be the first time he had done such a thing. The biggest thing he was surprised to find he was concerned about was what Camille, well everyone really, would be thinking of him right now. There was no doubt about it in his mind – Amy was _far_ worse than she had been on those dates with him, at least in terms of the disregard she was treating everyone else with. Sure, he'd made the odd joke about empires before, but that is what they had always been – jokes. Just like the whole 'hating the French' thing was more friendly rivalry stemming from years of history, as opposed to a particularly strong feeling. God, he really hoped they realised that! It would be a bit awkward to try to drop it into conversation now.

Back at the table, Amy had excused herself, she hadn't seen the point of spending time with them if Richard wasn't there. Silence had descended for a full 30 seconds before Dwayne broke it with a lamentable, "poor chief." Fidel nodded his solidarity but Camille looked completely bewildered at the boys' show of sympathy.

"Hey, he _chose_ her," she pointed out to them. "He admitted to me he took her out more than once! A woman like _that_. And then, instead of explaining to her what was wrong, he just ignores her calls – never giving her the chance to improve herself. He may very well be responsible for the woman she is today," she continued sternly.

Dwayne shook her head, "Camille, you can't reason with a woman like that. And she is very attractive, the Chief is only a man after all – the attention would be enough to turn anyone's head. Call it temporary insanity if you will."

Camille snorted, so Dwayne tried again. "Camille, have you heard of the crazy hot ratio?" Camille frowned then shook her head. Dwayne continued, "Well, the hotter a woman is, the crazier she can be. And she," he indicated towards the bathrooms, "is hot. Which means that she can be almost as crazy as she likes." Fidel was now nodding sagely as Camille stared in disbelief.

"That's a thing? The hot crazy scale? That's a thing?"

Dwayne looked as though he had given away a vital secret about the existence of mankind, "Come on Camille, you can't hold it against the guy." Camille mulled that thought over for a moment then shrugged her acceptance. If what Richard had told her prior was correct, then this had happened 10 years ago and he was more than being punished for it now. "Good, and you won't mind if Uncle Dwayne here..."

"Seriously?"

Even Fidel was giving Dwayne an alarmed look, and he had far more experience in Dwayne's dealings with women than Camille had. "Hey, I promised the Chief I would try to distract her for him, remember? You wouldn't want me to renege on my promise, would you?"

"I think the Chief would prefer if we could find a way to get her off the island entirely," Fidel said. "Imagine if she really likes you, she might move here!"

"What do you mean _imagine_ if she liked me? Of course she is going to like me!"

"Now you're beginning to sound a lot like her..."

"Relax Camille, she's here for a week? During that time Uncle Dwayne gets to have a little fun, cures her of her obsession with the Chief then sends her on her way. Win win!" It was at this moment that Richard decided to make reappearance back at the table. He hadn't been able to bring himself to make a run for it, he couldn't leave Camille with her, God knows what sort of thing she would tell her.

"Where is she?" Richard asked, filled with hope that Amy might have actually left.

"Getting more drinks," Camille informed him. She examined the bar area. "And winding my mother up in a way only you have previously achieved." That did seem to be the case, and Richard mentally congratulated Catherine on her professionalism for not tipping the whole tray of drinks of Amy's head.

"Well, I promised Juliet I'd be home by half six, so I need to be making a move," Fidel said, rising from the table where his original gin and tonic stood untouched. This, in combination with his observations on Catherine, gave Richard an idea.

Amy was already on her way back over with a new tray. Placing it on the table she began handing them out to everyone, ignoring the fact that they all had the previous one still in front of them. Standing up, apparently to help her, he began to lean forward, not quite believing what he was about to do. Lining up her handbag on the floor with the drink nearest the edge of the table he executed a casual arm gesture designed to send the two on a collision course.

"Oh Richard!" She cried, as the drink splattered all over her bag. "You have always been so bloody clumsy! Do you know how much this thing is _worth_?" He was receiving a look from Camille that said _she_ knew how much it was worth – and if the bag was permanently damaged his pay check was not going to thank him.

"Quick!" Camille said, whose love of nice bags apparently overcame her dislike of Amy. "There is a hand-dryer in the toilet!" She disappeared, not quite as planned but it did get Amy out of the way.

Richard turned to Dwayne. His need to protect him overcame any embarrassment that he had been feeling prior to now. He pointed a finger in his face. "Do not have sex with that woman."

He received three disbelieving looks from around the table. "Richard you can't order him…" Camille began.

"Fine," he clarified. "It isn't an order. It is very strong advice. Now, if you'll excuse me, tell her I've been called to a crime scene or something! Her bad mood with me, based on past experience, should last the rest of the evening. Oh and Dwayne?" He took a deep breath. "Good luck."

He practically ran from the bar and was already halfway up the street before he realised that Camille was following him. "Richard!"

He stopped, he wasn't really in the mood for the argument that was about to happen.

"Look, I'm sorry about the bag, but it was the only diversion I could think of." He saw the look he was getting. "You don't understand I've tried spilling a drink on her dress before, but she just sat there while it went see through! She's not normal!"

"Yes, I realise that, which rather begs the question of why you were going out with her in the first place!" Camille argued back. "And you know, you could have been a bit firmer in there with her. I thought you'd changed, that you liked it here now, but maybe you agree with her and secretly still think we're all backwards!"

"I was younger!" Richard argued back. "And apparently stupider. You know we can't all be _you_ Camille, with people lining up to date you. You probably get so much attention that it's annoying. I don't so when I do it can be flattering and a little overwhelming, so excuse me for being human!"

"Oh you're human, there's no doubt about that. I just had no idea you were such a stereotype. A pretty woman shows an interest in you and even though she's crazy you put up with it so you can have sex with her! Then, you don't bother calling her out of politeness to end it and even though you hate her, you forbid Dwayne from sleeping with her so that it doesn't hurt your male pride!"

"That _was not_ why I forbid him! And as I already said, it wasn't an order, it was advice. Because I know now what I should have known at the start. It's not worth it, nothing on the planet could ever make that worth it." His voice was rising now, and it wouldn't surprise him if Amy was able to track him down. "I suppose you've _never_ made a mistake in your love life?"

"Of course I've made mistakes!" She shouted at him.

"Then why aren't I allowed to have done so?" He shouted right back.

"Because!"

"Because what? Because it's too ridiculous to imagine that anyone would want to be with me? Or perhaps it's unimaginable that anyone would want to stalk me to a tropical island in the middle of nowhere? Or is it because you don't like me enough to afford me a second chance, because I'm cut from the same cloth that Amy is and I need to be punished for it?"

"No! Because I thought you were different, like maybe you were the first man I've met who wasn't like…" Camille stopped abruptly. She stopped, because the next words that were to come out of her mouth were 'my father'. Oh God, she thought to herself, I _so_ have Daddy issues. But too many men had walked out of Camille's life – not just her father, a boyfriend at university who upped and joined the air force leaving her only a note. An officer at the police academy she had been becoming increasingly close to, who returned from a holiday with a woman he had met and married in the space of a week. And finally Luc – somebody she had actually gone so far as gotten engaged to, before he got cold feet and returned to Quebec, and his high school girlfriend. Camille had kind of stopped trying after that, with the exception of the dates her mother set her up on, fearing there was no man on this planet capable of loyalty.

She had spent so much time assuming Richard was just going to up and leave any day – go back to his first love, England. And then she had started to believe that he was here to stay, and started to believe that maybe _she_ had something to do with that. And now he was looking at her, waiting for her to finish the sentence, which was never going to happen. Instead, physically deflating, she said, "I'm sorry. Of course I think people can love you." Because in the end, didn't she?

Camille thought he looked more worn out than usual by their arguing, or perhaps it was Amy's visit in general, but seemed to accept her apology. Richard wondered if he should hold a grudge like he usually did, he would be more than within his rights to flounce off. But he suddenly saw himself through her eyes and realised how juvenile that was, and despite wanting a quiet evening, he found that he no longer wanted a quiet evening on his own. She annoyed the hell out of him on almost every conceivable level but he realised that he wanted to spend time with Camille. So instead of turning his back on her, on them, he found himself wanting to bury the argument, to show her that he had changed since he had arrived.

He tried to break the ice. "You don't think I should go back do you? I know you think I haven't been very kind to her, but I don't want to encourage her. I mean, you saw how she reacted to you. That's why I said we were colleagues," that caught Camille's attention. Despite everything she felt a tinge of hope as Richard continued. "You know, instead of um, friends?"

"Of course," she said, though desperate to ask more. "No, I think we're best to just leave Dwayne to handle her. I, um, I could give you a lift back if you like?"

Richard nodded, accepting the invitation. Perhaps he could convince Camille to stay for a beer or two...


	3. Chapter 3

When Amy reappeared she found that it was only Dwayne who was waiting for her, and for a moment he wondered whether he too should have made a run for it. He had expected her to be angry, but instead a look of hurt crossed her face that was quickly replaced by indifference and Dwayne began to feel sorry for her.

"I'm sorry, but the Chief is the sort of man who is _always_ on duty," he said, after explaining that Richard had been called away to deal with an assault. He just didn't mention the assault was likely being carried out by Camille at this very moment, judging by the look on her face when she had chased after him. "He could have farmed it out to more junior officers but he likes to handle such matters himself. Doesn't always realise he should take the opportunity to spend time with a beautiful women when he can."

She brightened a little. "Oh don't worry. He was always like that back in England too. I liked the fact that he was so studious..." Dwayne thought that he was going to have to fish around for a new subject when her vanity made a reappearance. "So you think I'm beautiful?" It was false modesty designed to attain a compliment, but Dwayne didn't care. When it came to flattering pretty woman, he was a master.

"Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself! Of course you're beautiful, a real English rose," he told her gamely. She bestowed a gracious smile upon him in return for his attentions.

"And that dress, wow it really suits you," he continued in earnest.

"Oh this?" She said, plucking at the fabric which temporarily gave Dwayne a view of the lingerie she was wearing – the sort that made him swallow hard. "I actually picked this out especially for Richard. I wore one very similar to it on our first date. I, unlike _some_ women, am actually the same size as I was ten years ago!"

Dwayne's eye roamed appreciatively over her figure and she giggled and playfully slapped his shoulder. "Well even if he hasn't noticed. I certainly have." Her giggling stopped immediately.

"You think he didn't notice?"

Dwayne sensed that he was losing her and started to back pedal. "Hey, he's at work isn't he? You know how married to his job he is, if he wasn't I'm sure he'd be here."

"Well, I mean," she sounded suddenly highly anxious. "Surely the _right_ woman would be able to distract him. He and I, we had something _special_. Didn't we?" Dwayne had no idea why she was asking him, from the sounds of it the relationship though short lived had been 'special' – just not in the way she was clearly hoping for. "Of course you probably don't know _all_ the details of our relationship," she said brightly. "Richard probably wouldn't have wanted to talk about it too much, that would mean recalling what he must have thought he'd lost. Let me tell you, and then you can judge for yourself!"

Dwayne's smile had become slightly fixed. This wasn't what he had been expecting, he would going to have to deploy his entire arsenal if he was going to bring this back around to the outcome that he was expecting. "Oh you don't have to give details. I think I can imagine, pretty girl like you catching his eye..."

She smiled at him again. "Oh you're sweet, but Richard needs more than just a pretty face."

"I don't doubt it..."

"Richard, you see, needs a woman to be rather _firm_ with him." Dwayne got the distinct impression that anybody else would have followed that up with a nudge, wink and an '_if you know what I mean'_. He squirmed uncomfortably in his seat. "And, under that sort of direction, he can achieve _wonderful_ things. In fact, I would say I had a real influence in turning him into the man he is today."

"Right," Dwayne said – but before he could change the topic by asking her what sights she intended to visit on the island, she carried on.

"It went both ways though, he had a very big impact on my life."

Dwayne frowned at her statement and realised too late that he had basically given her the go ahead to continue. She lowered her voice, "let's just say I haven't found a man yet who can live up to Richard." And she definitely gave him a knowing look this time. Dwayne downed half a gin and tonic from one of the glasses that was on the table, it was disgusting but he didn't care.

"Oh what a good idea!" Amy surveyed the table taking in the 5 additional drinks that she had purchased before one of them had ended up in her handbag. "So many to finish Dwayne, I hope you're in for a fun night!" And polished off half a glass herself.

"I mean really," she said, reaching for another glass. "From all outside appearances, you would think Richard would be a pretty average lover. But I can assure you, from personal experience that is most certainly not the case."

Dwayne could not believe he was about to have to listen to a woman talk about his boss' sexual prowess. Things he would rather be doing than sitting though this included swimming through a pool teaming with jelly fish, getting a colonic irrigation and cleaning out a barn full of goats with bowel problems. And yet, here he was, about to be emotionally scarred for life.

Amy was onto her third gin and tonic. "Being totally honest here," she stopped to check that that was ok, "I mean I can be totally honest can't I?" She didn't wait for an answer as she called Catherine over. "Hi, could you just keep them coming when you see we're getting low. Same as before, slim line tonic, lime and mineral water ice cubes..." She almost didn't stop to draw breath. "Where was I? Oh yes. _Richard_. Oh. My. God. Dwayne, the man is a _genius_. Which when you think about it poses a serious problem for me. I mean, no one. No one has even come close." She realised that Catherine was still standing next to them, her mouth slightly agape. Amy seemed totally non-plussed. "Oh, we don't need anything else, I'll let you know if we do." She dismissed her with a little wave.

Catherine, with no choice but to ignore Dwayne's pleading look, picked up the empty glasses and returned to the bar. She vaguely entertained the idea that she might be suffering auditory hallucinations, or needed her hearing testing, but the look of extreme discomfit gracing Dwayne's face indicated that she had heard correctly. Richard Poole was, at least in the opinion of this woman, an amazing lover. It honestly would not have surprised Catherine if he'd never had a girlfriend in his life, let alone one who was apparently willing to chase him across the Atlantic. She picked up her phone, this was not information she could keep to herself. She knew one young woman who would be _very_ interested in what Amy was saying.


	4. Chapter 4

At the shack, Camille heard her phone ring but didn't pick it up, she was enjoying herself too much. They had both managed to overcome the aftermath of their argument on the way home and Richard had invited her in his usual polite way. His previous eagerness had died a little on the way home and he had almost been hoping that she would have said no, that way he could sloped off to bed and pretended that the entire day hadn't actually happened. But to his surprise she had accepted and they now found themselves on his veranda enjoying another beer. Camille, to his slight annoyance, had discovered his secret stash and put the majority in his freezer to cool quickly. Clearly she was here to stay.

"And that!" Camille concluded. "Was the worst date I have ever been on. Beat that!" Richard wasn't actually sure he could. It was nice to know even attractive, successful individuals like Camille had the odd bad date. It seemed she hadn't been joking when she had declared the blind dates arranged by her mother to 'always be a disaster' – but this one more than anything.

"Did he _really_ steal your shoes?" He asked just to make absolutely certain she wasn't pulling his leg.

"Hey!" She cried, mock hurt. "Check the court records if you don't believe me, thank goodness he pleaded guilty and I didn't have to testify that I had arrested my date for theft. No judge would forget that in a hurry."

Richard chuckled and not for the first time did Camille think how much more attractive he was when he smiled. Her heart gave a little flutter again so she took another swig of her beer to try and calm it down. "Come on then."

He shrugged. "I don't think I can."

"Seriously? I've just met your stalker and you can't think of a bad date story to tell me?" Richard swallowed nervously and began to pick at the label of his beer. She sighed and he got the impression that he was losing her interest. "Well at least someone stole your shoes because they liked them. Amy once brought a pair with her on one of our dates because she didn't like the ones I was wearing."

"Really?" Camille asked disbelievingly.

"Yes, and it had been my tie on the previous date," he confirmed. "But don't all women want to change the men they are with? At least Amy is direct about it."

"Of course all women don't try to change the men they are with! That is just what men tell themselves," Camille protested.

Richard just levelled her with a look, "So you seriously don't keep a mental checklist of things you secretly wish were different about a man, and then subtly try to change them?"

"No all women do that first part," Camille admitted with a smile. "I just don't bother with the second." Richard considered listing the many things she had either made him do, or tried to get him to do, since he came to the island – but that would imply he thought they were in some kind of relationship, which they obviously weren't.

She continued. "So come on then, what was it about her?"

He raised an eyebrow at her and she rolled her eyes, chuckling he took another sip. The alcohol was loosening him up. "In my defence, on the surface we did have quite a lot in common. We went to the same university, did the same subject, liked the same films, books. She seemed like a good match."

Camille nodded sagely. "So you liked her um..." she paused, deciding how best to phrase her statement and made a circular motion in front of her breasts with her hands, "personality?"

Richard bit back a smile and licked his lips. "Yes, I suppose on the surface, her..." he cleared his throat, "personality was very appealing."

"But not appealing enough to make up for the craziness," she teased him.

"I don't think any…personality traits…could make up for her craziness," he told her honestly. "I don't understand how somebody gets like that without medical intervention, though I suppose in reality she's harmless enough, just _really_ annoying.

"You know for a moment I was honestly scared she'd turned up on the island for me, but I suppose that's a bit vain, of course she has other reasons to be here."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that," Camille said slowly.

"As we have already discussed, there is no way that somebody would fly across an ocean for me. I am not that much of catch," he said rather firmly. She looked as though she was about to say something to disagree with him so Richard continued quickly before they got into a quagmire of false compliments. "I mean, the time we spent together was hideous."

"Oh I think I know something that you two did that wasn't hideous." She wasn't quite sure why she said it; she didn't really want to think about it.

He scoffed and she picked up on it immediately. "Oh wait. You're basically telling me that the only reason you got together with her in the first place was hideous?"

He tried to remain aloof. "I don't want to talk about it."

She was not to be deterred. "How hideous?"

"I'm not talking about it."

She tried a different tact. "You know, I've had some pretty bad experiences too."

"Experiences?" He highlighted the plural.

She scrunched up her face, couldn't quite believe that she was about to tell him this. "This one guy tried to lick my face." Richard made the appropriate retching noises. "Your turn..." he shook his head. "Another guy tried to smell my armpit..."

He looked incredulous. "Where do you find these men?"

Camille shrugged, "I've convinced myself that you all have weird quirks, but some of them just turn out to be more bearable for women than others. And you know quite a lot of women have weird quirks as well." She gave him a pointed look, to try to emphasise this was where he should tell her whatever Amy's was.

He didn't fall for it, "You among them?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said it teasingly, but Richard blushed profusely and suddenly returned to awkward again, just as she thought he had consumed enough alcohol to loosen up. That at least let Camille know that yes, he was interested in finding out. She poked him hard on the arm, "Go on, tell me!"

He sighed in defeat – his embarrassment at her earlier jest had probably worked in her favour, now he would confess just to distract her from the rather personal question he had asked. "She had…requirements…for the language used in bed."

Camille frowned, confused, "Lots of women like dirty talk Richard – are you really that adverse to it?" She didn't add that she could be one of those women on occasion, so she so hoped that wasn't the case.

"No! I mean, not no to not liking it, or no to liking it or no to – I mean, no it wasn't…what you said. It was how she liked to be referred to in bed. And how she referred to me." He came to a stop again, but there was no way Camille could leave it at that, so she poked him in the arm again, hard. "Ow!" He protested briefly. ""Fine, if you're going to get violent. She liked to be called by her title, actually she sort of insisted. You know..." He left the ending open, praying that she would understand.

"Title?"

He sighed. Clearly there was no escaping this. "Miss Bordey, Mr Poole, that sort of thing." His face creased with embarrassment. "Only it was worse than Mr Poole." He was obviously having some difficulty talking about this. "She called me Sergeant Poole." He swallowed a mouthful of beer again. He might as well complete his humiliation. "I had to call her Miss Thorpe."

Camille couldn't help herself, she let out a snort of laughter. "Oh my God!"

Richard was rather more resigned, but nodded along with her. "Oh my God." He had his head in his hands unable to bring himself to look at her. He shuddered. "God, it was so awful." He risked a look at her and could see she was still trying to hold her laughter in. "I mean Camille what do you do in that situation?" He didn't wait for an answer. "And then afterwards, all I wanted to do was leave and have a shower but I thought that would be rude, so I had to stay and hold her."

"Well," Camille said, leaning back in her chair after she recovered from the fit of giggles. "I can now totally see why you took such drastic action in trying to avoid her. And why you told Dwayne not to sleep with her. I can assure you that I do not need to be called _Sergeant_ Bordey in bed, it's entirely voluntary."

She winked, and this time he didn't get embarrassed, he accepted the flirting easily. "Well that probably stems from your more relaxed, Caribbean attitude," he suggested.

"Well we _are_ more relaxed about a lot of things around here."

Richard scoffed, "You mean like time keeping, drinking on the job…"

"Relationships between colleagues," she finished for him. He dropped his fifth (or was it sixth?) bottle of beer with a resounded clatter. Both swooped down to fetch it, with only resulted in them bashing their heads together.

"Sorry," They both muttered at the same time, before looking at each other and smiling. In the end the sheer proximity of their faces triggered what an evening of flirting and alcohol and tension hadn't quite been able to manage. One moment they were sharing a small smile as they reached for the bottle, and the next moment it lay forgotten, as their hands (and mouths) were really rather busy doing other things. Looking back, neither was sure who made the first move – both would claim it to be the other – or perhaps, for once, they had been of one mind. Richard was certainly not arguing with Camille as she led him inside and towards the bed.

* * *

><p>Richard lay, fighting sleep and holding her close. Closer than he thought he should, but he didn't want to let her go. Not yet. Just in case she didn't come back. She sighed and pressed herself back against him and then wriggled so she was facing him.<p>

"You know you don't have to do that."

"Do what?" he mumbled.

"Hold me." The thought flashed through his mind that she didn't want him and he was about to release her when he heard, "you know, if all you want to do is have a shower and leave..."

He narrowed his eyes at her and kissed her in response. "I," he assured her, "am _exactly_ where I want to be."

Camille's phone buzzed again. "Ignore it," Richard told her, but she just shook her head at him.

"I have been all evening, I think it's about time I checked it, don't you?" She rolled off him and dashed, naked, out on to the porch where her phone (within her bag) was laying waiting for her.

When she jumped lightly back into bed, moving to be close him again, he informed her, "I'm only tolerating that action because I enjoyed the view. Now please tell me there isn't a murder we are supposed to be solving."

She gave him an enigmatic smile then put him out of his misery. "It seems that Amy has been enlightening Dwayne on a few of your past antics." He looked at her blankly. "Bedroom antics..."

He gave her a pleading look. "Dwayne called you to tell you that?"

"No...my mother called me to tell me that."

He sunk back on to the pillow, palm against his forehead and said quietly, "I'll be a laughing stock."

Camille couldn't understand why he was so upset. She thought he'd take it as a compliment, and her mother wouldn't tell anyone. Even if she did, she wasn't sure why he'd be so embarrassed. Then it hit her. "Oh my God she wasn't talking about that!"

The palm was removed a fraction of an inch, she had his attention. "My mother called to tell me that apparently you are a genius in bed..."

"What?"

"She went to clear some glasses off the table, and Amy was going on and on to Dwayne about how you were the only man to ever truly satisfy here," she scrolled through the messages. "Listen; she texted me some highlights as the evening went on." He raised an eyebrow in amusement as she did a pretty good impression of Amy. "'If I was the sort of woman to keep a top ten, Richard would be in _every_ single spot.'" She bit back her giggles at his embarrassment, "'I've spent a lifetime trying to find somebody who can live up to him.' Oh, this is a good one, 'I don't believe a woman on this planet had truly _lived_ until she's been made love to by Richard Poole.'"

"Are you _serious_? But it was awful, we've been over this!"

"Apparently it was only awful for you. Of course what my mother didn't know was there was no need to tell me any of those things." She gave him a sly wink. "I already know them to be true."

Richard, thinking she was mocking him, gave her a glare. It wasn't mocking though, it was teasing. "Though I have to say, the rest of womankind will just have to live having never known true satisfaction because I am _not_ letting you go."

Richard had gone very quiet. She was suddenly nervous. "Is everything ok? Have I said something wrong?"

He took his time to answer, savouring her discomfort. "I was just thinking about how much you sounded like Amy."

She realised that she might have placed too much meaning on their fledgling relationship. That she had been banking on this not being a one night stand. "I didn't mean..." It was his turn to tease her, snorting with laughter.

"Inspector Poole that is very unkind."

His laughter stopped abruptly as memories resurfaced from an encounter that he would rather forget. He lowered his voice, chiding her. "You should be very careful what you laugh about Camille." She quirked her eyebrow at him. "You play games like that and you might find yourself having your face licked again." He made a move towards her and she screamed trying to push him away before collapsing into giggles.

"Perhaps I was the only man who actually agreed to call her Miss Thorpe, which is why I rate so highly in her estimation," he explained. "But it seemed rude not to agree."

"Richard I am certain other men have agreed," Camille told him. "And like I said, I know exactly how talented you are!" She waggled her eyebrows at him, but then seemed to lose some of her joviality and looked thoughtful instead.

He had been intending on kissing her, but something in her current mood stopped him. It was as if she was hiding something from him. He returned her earlier question. "What are you thinking about?"

She seemed almost embarrassed to tell him. "When you said I was a mature rioja..."

He didn't want an argument. "Camille, I didn't mean..."

"No, I know." He still looked wary. "What did you mean?"

"I don't understand why this is important."

She shrugged. "I just want to know how much time we've wasted. Maybe if I hadn't shouted at you, we'd have made it here a bit sooner."

He gave her a small smile. "Or maybe if you knew a little more about wine..?" It was her turn to look sheepish. "You are French after all." That earned him a playful punch. He sighed and said slowly. "I suppose I meant that I thought you were beautiful and lively, and complex. And intense." He smiled at her. "You can be very intense. In a good way." He added the last bit in case she was about to take offense.

But when he looked at her he could see that her eyes had softened. She was worried that she was about to cry so she tried to change the mood. "Were?"

Richard for his part was beginning to wonder how he had managed to screw up again when she clarified. "You thought I _was_ beautiful?"

Ah, now he understood. "Are beautiful. Very beautiful and very lively and very complex. And elegant. Did I mention elegant?"

She drew him back into another kiss. "You don't have to charm me anymore Inspector, I'm already in your bed." He laughed drew her close again, wanting to prove that he had no intention of letting her go either.


	5. Chapter 5

Camille had had to leave Richard quite early as there was no way she could turn up to work in the same clothes without drawing comment from Dwayne and Fidel. With Amy still on the island, it was best they avoid them finding out for at least a little while. She didn't want any hassle – if they were lucky Dwayne's charms might have actually won out in the end. She resolved to ask him about it as soon as she got in.

She had somehow managed to arrive before Richard, possibly because when she had left he was pretty close to falling back asleep. At the station Dwayne was reasonably upbeat behind his desk – but it was obvious it was largely put on. Fidel could tell as well, but had chosen not to comment on his lies about the night before being absolutely fine. Camille, however, had evidence to the contrary and wanted to see if it really was as bad as it sounded.

"So, I hear you didn't have much luck winning Amy over?" She said after the usual morning greeting.

Dwayne waved her statement off, "What are you talking about? It was fine! She came round in the end, though it was obvious she did have a bit of a sweet spot for the Chief."

"A bit?" Camille repeated, an eyebrow raised. "Because my mother informs me that she spent the evening informing you of just what a great, ah…" She struggled to think of another way to put it, "about a certain someone's prowess in the bedroom..."

Dwayne looked resigned to his fate. "Yeah, I thought she might have done that." He gave Camille a look that told her everything she needed to know. "That woman is another level of crazy altogether." Camille bit back a guffaw. "Do I look like the type of man who wants to listen to a woman go on about her ex? – I mean I'm all for a little rebound, but that much information is not good for anyone's confidence. Even I couldn't bounce back from that."

"Probably for the best Dwayne." Richard had breezed into the office. Dwayne sat up to attention but couldn't quite look Richard in the eye. "Worst night of your life."

That caught Dwayne's attention. "Worst Chief?"

Richard shuddered.

Dwayne looked at him seriously and said, "Have you considered a restraining order?"

"I hardly think that is necessary," Richard replied, shaking his head at the dramatic suggestion. "She can't be here for more than say a week? She must have a job or something to go back to." Dwayne didn't respond to that. "Doesn't she?" He asked, suddenly nervous.

"Well, she mentioned something to me about getting a long term leave of absence…and having an open return," Dwayne said with a sympathetic look. He received two equally alarmed looks in return from Richard and Camille.

"Are you _serious_?"

Dwayne nodded, "Some things you just don't joke about."

"Oh God."

"Um, she also said that she was going to swing by the office at some point this morning."

Richard looked wildly at Camille, she returned a steadier gaze. "You are staying here."

"But..."

"You have to tell her." Richard threw a meaningful glance in the direction of Fidel and Dwayne, designed to get her to shut up. They hadn't exactly discussed keeping their relationship quiet but he didn't think it was the best time to bring it up. She rolled her eyes at his misunderstanding. "Tell her that you are not interested in her."

"Can't you tell her, while I'm out?" Her look brooked no leeway. He gave up with a sigh. "Fine."

"Take her out for a coffee and cake," Dwayne suggested. "I always find access to chocolate tends to ease the blow." Fidel rolled his eyes at that, but Richard nodded as if this were a sage idea. He didn't want to cause a scene in the station…or a café, but the latter was actually the preferred option. If things got bad he could always arrest Amy for a public order offence.

Richard's phone beeped. His heart rate suddenly increased, as paranoia made him believe that Amy had somehow gotten hold of his personal number, but when he looked at the screen it was from Camille. A bit miffed, he opened it to see it read 'and if you get into real problems call me!'

As he sat at his desk he mulled over how he was going to get in touch with her. The conundrum was how much effort he should put into finding her. He didn't know where she was staying or what her number was and he certainly didn't want Amy to think that he had gone out of his way to contact her, God knows what she would infer from that. He had been planning on causally bumping into her but had no idea how to instigate it. On the verge of asking Dwayne if he knew any inside information as to her whereabouts he was saved (or not he thought wryly) by the ominously familiar clump of high heels on the station steps. Knowing what was coming he tried to give himself a few more precious moments of peace by withdrawing out of sight behind his desk.

"Dwayne Darling! Wasn't last night fun?" She stopped by his desk to envelop him in a heavy bosomed hug, her kiss, partially missing his cheek, dislodged her sunglasses a little in the process.

"Yeah, great," he replied, reluctantly returning the embrace.

"Hope you've not been making poor Richard here jealous with tales of our exploits!" She said cheerfully. "He has always been the jealous type, you know!"

"Has he really?" Camille asked. Richard noted her voice was a little strained, as if she was having to actively control her desire to tell Amy exactly what she thought of her. Luckily Amy's implication of Richard's jealous nature (which was a little bit true, actually, it's just she had never been the object of it) gave him an idea.

"Which is why I would like to steal you away for myself now, Amy," he said with false joviality. "Since we never got a chance to, ah, talk properly yesterday. Can I buy you a coffee?"

Richard almost felt guilty at the look of excitement that now crossed Amy's face, a feeling that rapidly left him as he saw her shoot a look of triumph at Camille. To her credit Camille shot back a warm smile. She could afford to be magnanimous in her coming victory.

Dwayne to his relief had been released and she was now striding purposely over to him to claim her prize. Taking a step back he remembered with difficulty that he had to get her out of the station and somewhere they couldn't be overheard by the team. Shooting one last pleading look at Camille, he straightened up and walked towards her, trying desperately to put some distance between them as Amy's hand clawed at his arm trying to find its hold.

"Where are you taking me Richard darling?" She asked as they descended the steps. Richard had just been considering the same question, knowing Amy's _very_ high standards there was probably nowhere on the island that satisfy her – even if he took her to one of the five star resorts. He might as well save himself some money and go somewhere he liked the coffee, so steered her in the direction of a café near the main town square.

"Did you have anything _particular _you wanted to discuss Richie?" She asked as they sat at a table after ordering – Richard's a black coffee and Amy's some sort of latte monstrosity with so many instructions on its preparation Richard couldn't recall them all.

Richard decided perhaps it was best to ease Amy into the idea they couldn't be together gently. "I just thought we could start off with a general catch up," he said – then proceeded somewhat awkwardly. "So, do you, um, have a boyfriend at the moment?"

The look of delight that crossed her face told Richard he had done entirely the wrong thing. The intention had been to get Amy to maybe mention recent relationships and have _her_ ask him the same question, so he could mention he was seeing somebody. Instead she took the question as 100% confirmation of his interest and looked ready to jump on him here and now.

He moved his chair away gently and was horrified to see that she followed his movement. Her chair was now closer than ever. She leant over the arm of it and reached for him. He only just got his hand out of the way in time as he leant away from her. She didn't seem to notice.

"Oh Richie! Coming here was such a long shot. You know, after you didn't call or return my calls I thought you might have moved on. And we had such an _amazing _time together. And then I got chatting to some people back home and they said you still weren't married, that you hadn't found the right girl. And I thought, maybe you had found the right girl but you'd let her slip through your fingers. So..." She gestured to herself. "Here I am!" Her hand scrabbled at his arm again and finally found it. "I _knew_ you'd missed me!"

"NO!" He said, for more forcefully than he had intended.

"Come on, surely at your age you aren't embarrassed by a little public display on affection!" She said, leaning towards him for a kiss.

"No! I mean yes! I mean…I don't want any display of affection with you!"

His heart rate decelerated slightly when Amy let go of his arm and returned, amazingly placidly, to her own seat rather than continuing her efforts to practically climb into his lap. "I'm sorry, I'm moving too fast for you aren't I? I shouldn't push you – of course you are a decent sort of chap who would want to buy a woman dinner first!"

"No, no dinner. I don't want dinner with you."

Her eyebrows shot northwards. "Well I remember you being keen Richard, but I have to say I'm flattered." She was attempting to signal the waiter over so that she could pay and they could leave.

"No. Amy, you're not listening. I don't want to have dinner with you."

"Oh, I understand you completely Richard," she was running her fingers up and down his legs, "I've missed you so much too. It's been too long."

Richard squeaked and managed to stand up, shrieking something about the bathroom as she sat back in her chair, her dress riding up over her thighs, surveying him cooly with a predatory gleam in her eye. "Be quick my darling. I can't wait much longer..."

In the bathroom, he typed out a quick and desperate message to Camille. He did a quick mental calculation, trying to figure out the shortest possible time it would take her to arrive (Oh please sweet Lord in heaven, don't let them be out on a call) and then dawdled in the bathroom as much as possible. Then a terrifying thought occurred, that Amy might follow him in here shortly, and he left, pausing to order them more drinks. Seeing the vast chocolate cake on display, he got some of that for good measure.

"Now I know they say chocolate is an aphrodisiac, Richie, but there is really no need to try and get me in the mood," she said suggestively when he returned to the table with it. "Or are you just trying to ensure I have enough energy for the activities you have planned?"

"I just thought you might like it!" He told her. Amy looked like she would prefer to just abandon it but politeness seemed to win out and she reached for a fork and placed a big piece in her mouth. Though he would have preferred to wait until Camille's arrival, Richard felt this opportunity to speak whilst Amy could not interrupt him was too big to let pass. "I have a girlfriend!" He told her in a rush. Technically, he wasn't sure Camille quite counted as his girlfriend yet, but 'I have a girlfriend' seemed a lot better than 'I slept with my detective sergeant last night and would like to continue to do so as part of a proper relationship if that is also what she desires'.

Amy had discarded the fork and had been in the process of putting a finger full of chocolate cake seductively in her mouth. The finger stopped halfway out and her eyes narrowed in contemplation. After a moment her mouth continued its caress as Richard watched in barely hidden disgust and she said, "That's ok. We can take care of her on the way home."

"Take care of her?" Richard was envisioning some sort of horrible death as Amy cut in.

"Yes, you can call her and explain that we've rekindled our love. But don't spend too long on the phone Richie, I have other plans for your mouth..."

Richard was looking around wildly, where was Camille? Amy had signalled the waiter over. "Bill please. And can you put this in a box?" She gave Richard a seductive look. "I have plans for it at home..."

Whist Richard was considering using the spilt drink trick again and trying to calculate how much damage a coffee would do to a handbag when he noticed a look of annoyance appear on Amy's face. He turned in the direction of her irritated glare and discovered that Camille was winding her way towards them. "If she's here to tell you about a case you'll just have to order her to deal with it herself, Richie, we have plans. I'm sure you can take a personal day on this one occasion. Though you may also need one tomorrow to recover!"

"Actually," Richard said loudly, standing from the table. "This _is_ my girlfriend!"

Amy seemed to think this was a big joke. "Don't be silly, Richard, you can't sleep with your inferiors!"

"Who are you calling inferior?" Camille snapped.

"Sorry, darling, of course I meant _subordinates_!" Amy clarified, though both Camille and Richard knew that had been no simple slip up. Amy tittered to herself, then realised that they weren't laughing along. She stood up sharply, her chair screeching over the ground and Richard impulsively took a step back. People were starting to look and he was beginning to regret bringing her to a cafe that he actually liked. Chances were after this that he was never going to be able to frequent it again. Only Camille stood her ground. Amy looked to him for clarification, "Richard you're not serious!"

"Why wouldn't he be serious?"

"Because..."Amy was floundering for an excuse. "Well, look at you. With your ridiculous hair and your lack of style. There's no way Richard would ever look at you." Camille raised an eyebrow conveying quite clearly that he had done more than look which only seemed to incense her even more. She turned to Richard.

"Richard? Please tell me this is a joke!" He remained stoically silent as the truth started to dawn on her. "How could you lead me on like that?"

"I didn't lead you..."

"Oh please, you've been all over me since I got here, buying me things, suggesting we go home and all the time you were going to two time me with this..." she indicated at Camille, "thing. For God's sake Richard, where's your pride?"

Richard knew at this point he really had to say something, "Amy, apart from buying you the cake and the coffee _just now_, all of the rest of that was _in your head_," he told her very firmly, employing the voice he usually reserved for unruly teenagers. "And actually the fact that a woman like Camille would even be remotely interested makes me very proud, unlike you who has done nothing but make me feel ashamed of myself since you arrived!"

Amy gave him a look of abject horror for a moment, before rounding on Camille again, "You, young woman, are clearly some kind of witch!"

"Amy!" Richard said sharply. "That's enough. Let's go."

"Go Richard? Where are we going to go? A couple of minutes you were going to take me home, so where shall we go now?" She was on the verge of tears, rooting through her handbag trying desperately to find a tissue, when she came across a piece of lime from last night's gin and tonic. She threw is down on the table in disgust and started to cry. "Why couldn't you have told me last night? Why did you let me embarrass myself in front of everyone?" Richard was at a loss for words. "You told me you were just colleagues."

Both Camille and Richard were beginning to feel sorry for her. All of last night's indiscretions and annoyances began to fade with her tears. Richard began to reach out for her arm with his hand to pat it reassuringly.

"Oh God, don't touch me. This is what I'm talking about Richard. Mixed messages. First you want nothing to do with me. Then you want to touch me." She was blowing her nose frantically. "You're all the same. You're all so interested to start with, then as soon as you get what you want you leave. No one wants _me_!" She was beginning to wail and Richard was cringing with embarrassment again.

"Hush," he said awkwardly. "I just meant we should go somewhere quieter to talk it through."

"I don't want to go anywhere with you, ever again!" It was hard to feel any triumph at that, given how devastated Amy was. Richard noted he was now receiving dirty looks from several women in the café, who clearly thought that he was entirely in the wrong, and right now he wasn't sure they weren't right. Before he could say anything else to try and comfort her, Amy declared, "I am leaving right now, and don't you try to stop me…or follow me!" She then shoved past and stormed out of the door as fast as her ridiculous heels would allow her.

Richard and Camille shared a glance. "Am I supposed to follow her?" He asked Camille, as she was far more knowledgeable about these things.

"I imagine you are, but I wouldn't advise it," Camille said. "She might take it as encouragement again. I think we are probably best leaving her well alone."

But fate intervened again, and that was not to be the case, for before they could leave the café, they heard a massive shriek from nearby. Police instincts kicked in immediately, and they both hurried to investigate, only to discover the source of the shriek to be Amy sprawled a little way down the road, surrounded by a cloud of dust and cursing her broken shoe like a sailor.

Richard didn't really want to approach, especially given some of the swear words that Amy was currently employing. But he couldn't very well leave her on the ground. However, it seemed that she had the same idea because as she saw him approach, she fixed him with a glare and spoke in between her sniffs. "Why are you here? I told you I didn't want you to follow me!" She was trying to gather up a number of items that had spilt from her handbag during her fall. "Well come on have a good look at me sitting in the dirt!"

"Amy, I just wanted to check that you were alright!"

She threw her broken shoe at him. "No I am not alright! Go away Richard!" She tried to shuffle herself around so that she was no longer facing him when she gave a cry of pain and clutched at her ankle. Richard was about to bound forward to help her when he heard another voice.

"Excuse me, could you move out of the way please, I'm a doctor." He knelt next to Amy and spoke to her kindly. "Are you alright Miss?"

Amy brushed her dishevelled hair out of her eyes and looked up to see a pair of deep brown and very kind eyes staring back at her. She nodded shyly, her tears already drying. _Thank goodness for waterproof mascara_, she thought.

"I'm Dr. Wingfield..." He left the end of his sentence open so she could add her own introduction.

"Amy Thorpe."

"Miss Thorpe." Dr Wingfield tried the name out for himself, apparently as enamoured with her as she was with him, then turned back to his patient, indicating her ankle. "May I?" She nodded again as he bent and felt her already swelling joint. To Richard's mind it looked more like a caress.

Amy flinched a little as Dr. Wingfield mumbled an apology, then came to a diagnosis. "I think it might be a sprain. Pain killers and keep your weight off it and you should be as good as new." He reached behind him and picked up her discarded shoe. "And perhaps retire these until you are better, no matter how pretty they are..." She smiled shyly at him. He liked shoes! She snuck a look at his footwear. And _he_ had good shoes too - the man was perfect!

He helped her up. "Can you walk?"

"I think so." She took two Bambi like paces then almost collapsed. Dr Wingfield was there in a flash, holding her close, pulling her upright again.

They stood like that for a moment before they both realised that they had only just met and he reluctantly released her a little. "Can I help you back to your hotel?"

"Don't you have better things to be doing?" She was terrified that he was about to remember a wife, a girlfriend.

He smiled, a little embarrassed. "Not really, I'm here on my own. Holiday." She nodded as he continued. "I live in London normally."

"Oh, me too!"

He brightened a little and tried to decide the best course of getting her back to her hotel. "So, Miss Thorpe, where are you staying?"

"It's just down here – _The Creole."_

He stopped, looking at her in amazement. "I'm at _The Creole _too. It's funny, I haven't seen you around..."

Amy laughed lightly, "Well I haven't been hanging around the hotel bar much, they make their gin and tonics with _lemons_ and they don't have any mineral water ice cubes!" She beamed as his grip round her waist became a little firmer.

"Oh I _know_," he said. "I mean when I ordered a mineral water on my arrival and they offered me ice," he paused to make sure that she was on the same wavelength as him. "Can you believe it? Using tap water ice cubes would _entirely_ defeat the point of drinking the mineral water!"

"I am so glad you are here Dr. Wingfield, I should so have hated to have to go to a hospital _here_."

"Oh yes, I imagine they are entirely unsuitable. I have a practise on Harley Street myself…"

Richard and Camille watched the two walk off (well, limp off in the case of Amy) with nothing short of amazement. "She's forgotten all about me…" Richard said.

Camille shot him a look, "You don't sound as happy about that as you should be! She's not going to cause you any problems anymore now, is she?"

"Yeah, but, it was kind of a fast turnaround from practically declaring her undying love to _forgetting about me_." Richard was starting to feel a little insecure. "Would you forget about me that fast if a handsome doctor came along?"

"No, of course not." She told him. "A vet maybe, I like animals, but not a doctor..."

**A/N The end...or is it?**


End file.
